


Farm Boys

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way to a shoot, Wentworth Miller and Paul Adelstein get separated from the rest of the cast. However will they spend the time waiting for the tow truck to come? Well, how about a good, old-fashioned roll in the hay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farm Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't get mad, actors portrayed herein. I only did it because I find you so outrageously sexy!

“You are aware that this was a sucky idea, Wentworth?” Paul said for probably the fifth time in half an hour.

Wentworth rolled his eyes and hefted his bag over his shoulder. “I know, Paul; you've told me umpteen times since we left the car. Stop whining, will you? A little exercise never killed anyone.”

The dirt road was dusty and uneven. They hadn't been walking for five minutes before their jackets came off under the heat of the evening sun, and everything felt full of dust and dirt. Wentworth pushed his sunglasses up; sweat made them slip down his nose.

“A little exercise?! I'm not talking about the exercise; I'm talking about the goddamn fact that I will be sleeping in a barn tonight, that my car is standing in a ditch way back there, and that my suit – my favourite suit – looks like something dragged out of a pigsty right now,” Paul growled.

“Hey, look, civilization,” Wentworth exclaimed, pointing to a lone mail box twenty feet further up the road. From the mail box, they could see an old-fashioned farm house lying at the end of a lane with oak trees flanking it.

“How romantic,” Wentworth grinned. “And look, there's the barn. Doesn't it look comfortable?”

Paul wanted so badly to give him the finger, but refrained.

***

“It's not that bad,” Wentworth insisted, throwing his bag into the hay with a grin. “The truck will be here tomorrow morning, and we'll be back with the others before lunch.”

Paul rolled his eyes, spreading the thick, woollen blanket over an approximately flat area of hay. The farmer had stared at them when they had asked to sleep in his barn for the night, but as the man didn't have any spare bedrooms and was a very hospitable kind of guy, he had offered them his hayloft and some blankets. They had also had supper and borrowed his phone.

At least they didn't have to sleep near the animals; Paul thought he'd throw up from the smell. He didn't like animals much. Especially not the bovine kind.

“If I see one more cow in my life I'll go insane,” he muttered, sitting down at his blanket.

Wentworth laughed at his co-actor. It had been his idea to ride in Paul's car, and his idea to take the detour for a change of scenery. Getting from one set to another had turned out more trouble than it was worth.

But honestly, how was he to know that Paul's car would break down in the middle of nowhere? And that it would take the tow truck about eight hours to get to them, the time being after closing hours?

“Oh look, you can see the cows from here,” Wentworth said, looking out the small window near the ceiling of the loft. The large animals were standing around like excessively stupid statues on one of the fields surrounding the farm; beef waiting to be fried, in Paul's opinion.

“Shut the fuck up,” the older man answered, almost mechanically after repeating it all afternoon. There was no real bite in his words; not that there ever had been when he said that particular thing to Wentworth.

Wentworth turned and looked at his colleague. The garish light of a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling highlighted Paul's five o'clock shadow, the strong features of his face, the shadows cast by his broad shoulders.

“You tired, old man?” Wentworth smirked as Paul laid back on the blanket.

“Who are you calling _old man_? I'm only three years older than you, so don't give me that crap,” Paul said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was obvious Wentworth was up to something.

“Good, 'cause I'm young and energetic, and since we've got at least eight hours to kill...”

Wentworth pulled his t-shirt off, thankful for the summer heat still lingering in the room. Paul watched, eyes darkening, as Wentworth slowly but firmly undressed until he was standing in front of the other man clad in nothing but his boxer shorts.

“So what do you say? We gonna strangle those hours?”

Paul snorted a laugh and quickly undid his shirt buttons. “Until they beg for mercy.”

“You like begging, don't you?” Wentworth laughed, lowering himself to the blanket next to Paul. “Begging. Especially when I'm doing it.”

“ _Only_ when you're doing it,” Paul corrected before easing an arm around the other man to pull their bodies closer together. “Don't know why; you just look so good doing it.”

“Yeah, uh, that would be the sex, not the begging,” Wentworth quipped, a smile spreading across his face as Paul's lips descended on his neck. Stubble grazed his skin moving upwards until their lips met. Wentworth _loved_ feeling his skin raw and scratched from Paul's stubble.

As their tongues slid suggestively between their mouths, Paul rolled them over until Wentworth was on his back underneath him.

“When are you going to learn to undress fully before lying down?” Paul murmured, going hastily to work at removing the other man's boxer shorts.

“Can't you see I'm just doing it to tease you?” Wentworth laughed, lifting his hips as the cotton was pulled quickly down. “Besides, you still have half your suit on.”

“But since I'm calling tops, that doesn't really have to come all the way off,” Paul retorted, smirking as the other man's nimble fingers started working on his belt buckle.

“Good point,” Wentworth conceded, helping Paul push both trousers and shorts down and out of the way. “And at least you got your shirt off.”

“Lube?” Paul was gently biting his way across Wentworth's chest, paying intense attention to each nipple.

“Always,” the younger man grinned, reaching for his bag. “Vaseline.”

“Were you planning this?” Paul laughed, taking the box and unscrewing the lid. “Or do you always carry sex cosmetics?”

Wentworth affected a hurt expression. “I do, as a matter of fact. Do you have any idea how much work goes into keeping these lips in good shape?”

“You'll be needing a new box, then,” Paul grinned, “because I'm going to use the rest of this to prep you right now.”

Any clever reply Wentworth might have thought of disappeared in a gasp as slick fingers entered him swiftly in one move. Paul kept his eyes trained on the aforementioned lips; they were almost quivering as his fingers worked hastily to relax and open the slender body beneath his own.

“You're right, they are in good shape,” he stated, leaning in to finally kiss that rosebud of a mouth.

“Fuh... Paul, just... Fuck me already,” Wentworth moaned, writhing on the blanket with four fingers pressing into him.

“I thought you'd never ask,” Paul all but growled, removing his fingers before scooping up enough of the salve to coat himself thoroughly. He reached down to position himself, looking up at Wentworth's glazed eyes. “Ready?”

All resistance gone, the younger man welcomed the intrusion loudly. “Fuck yes!” he moaned, letting Paul rearrange his legs until they were circling the other man's waist. Wentworth grabbed a hold of Paul's shoulders, nails digging into the skin there as Paul started moving inside him.

“Ha-aaard,” Wentworth keened, body tensed in a taut arch from where his hips joined with Paul's to where his head rested on the blanket.

“Shit, Went, shut up or I'm gonna come right now,” Paul panted, doing his best to thrust slowly in and out of the clutching heat surrounding him.

“But I want it hard,” Wentworth purred, squirming beneath the compact body pinning him to the hay. “And I'll beg for it. Pleeease, Paul, oh, yes, hard -”

Paul started pounding into him with a vengeance, biting his lip hard to keep control of his body. Wentworth was moaning, whimpering, breathing shallowly; his body was tense as if in pain but the sounds he were making all but screamed of pleasure. He reached between them to stroke Wentworth firmly.

“God yes!” Wentworth screamed, bucking into Paul's touch. With a strangled sound of pleading, he came, convulsing around the hardness inside him.

Paul couldn't stop himself; the second he felt the pulsing tightness of his partner's climax, he groaned softly and released, pumping into Wentworth's heat with desperation.

Thrusting languorously through his own haze of pleasure, Paul slowly came to a halt, resting his forehead against Wentworth's. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“We should do this more often,” Paul panted, pulling out before rolling onto his side, facing the younger man.

“What, fuck?”

“In a barn.”

“Oh. Yeah, that. I thought you didn't like cows.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? I'm talking about the sex, not the damn beef on legs out there.”

“Well, you have to admit they add a certain atmosphere...”

Paul snorted. “Yeah. Manure and flies, how romantic.”

“Like you care about romance. You only want me for my body,” Wentworth grinned, stretching leisurely.

“Well, can you blame me?”

“No, not really.”

“Conceited.”

Wentworth grinned. “I know.”


End file.
